The end is nigh...

I am 8 months pregnant today. Four more weeks till this unknown is unleashed upon me. Now seems to be the perfect time to reflect upon the last few months and sum them up.

• Freakiest thing: seeing my abdomen bubble, move and wave as Tadpole kicks around.
• Freakiest thought: knowing that I have two brains. Unfortunately despite what Stefan thinks, neither of them is currently fully functional.
• Funniest pregnancy announcement: I skyped my parents and they wouldn't believe me when I told them that I was pregnant. Had to pass them onto Bas and they believed him!
• Funniest pregnancy realisation: meeting Sue in the lift and receiving several sideways glances at my stomach till she summoned the courage to ask me if I was pregnant (could have been a beer gut!)
• Most annoying thing: No sushi. No sashimi. No carpaccio. No antipasto. No pâté. No V. No cocktails.
• Most daunting thing: the sheer amount of information (sometimes contradicting) available out there. I have learnt so much about the human body I'm ready to attend 'Who wants to be a millionnaire?'.
• Most embarrassing moment: being in a business phone conference with five people in Wellington, three people in Auckland, and releasing a 70dB, conversation-stopping burp.
• Most hair-raising moment: watching the first drop of milk come out.
• Most notable moment: rushing over to a sleepy Bas to show him the positive pregnancy test. And the instructions after he wouldn't believe me it was positive.
• Most painful thing: hip pains, which started about a week ago. The wet and cold spring weather aggravated it.
• Most panick-stricken moment (to date): being told on Thursday that Tadpole's head was now engaged. This means that it could be any time now.
• Most relieving moment: being told that Tadpole had settled into the best position possible for birth and that there'd be remote chances of him moving. This meant less chances of needing a caesarean.
• Most surprising thing: how much an unborn mini-me can cost, considering there's no demand for luxurious accommodation, lavish food and drinks, fancy clothing, expensive entertainment or unecessary beauty products.
• Most tiresome thing: baby brain. Not being able to focus during meetings or remember whether I've already asked/done/said something, being constantly mentally and physically drained and taking twice as long doing stuff, is making me feel fairly useless both at home and at work.
• Most useful outcome (or so I hope): becoming more domesticated, or at least learning how to cook a wider range of healthyish meals.
• Nicest thing: having a cleavage for the first time in my life.
• Sweetest thing: family, friends, co-workers and even strangers showering us with kindness and presents.

Tadpole position

I'm 34 weeks today.

On Thursday we visited Dr Geoff Bye for a 30-minute discussion centred around my birth plan. Which of course I forgot at home.

Not a big deal anyway, as they had their own. It's pretty much a form to say what we should do when we think that labour has started. It's also got little squiggly lines which represent the doctor's writing about my preferences during labour and birth.

So the signs of labour are either:

1. Regular contractions - one every 5 minutes, lasting 40 to 60 seconds
2. Waters breaking with the mucus plug which apparently looks like snot. The waters should be clear. If they're brownish then Tadpole would have pooed in his organic bath tub, in which case we'll have to go to the hospital immediately as it's an indication that he's stressed. I have to say, if he's just stressed about labour, wait till he grows up and learns what stress really means
3. Bleeding like a period or heavier

My section on coping with labour was pretty empty. The environment will be going from wherever I am at the time (and hopefully not while I'm at the Parent & Child Show, or worse while in a work meeting) straight to home. Bas will be my support person, and my preferences in labour really are about what will get Tadpole out ASAP with minimum pain for both of us. Especially me.

Pain relief options. Well with the MOH withdrawing funding for private anaesthetists, we're left with a $400 - $600 bill if we want one. To be honest I don't care if the aneasthetist is private or not. Until epidural time anyway, in which case I'd definitely want the person to understand that I'm paying them half a grand not to screw up with my spine. If I can do without the epidural, then TENS, Gas and Pethidine are definitely on the list. What a shame that I can't use fermented sparkling grape juice instead, this has been proven over the centuries to be the best pain relief option around, with not too many chemicals involved. Positions - again, whatever is best at the time. I've asked to try and avoid the episiotomy, unfortunately it's that or a tear, neither of which I'm interested in. Geoff compared it to passing a grapefruit out of your mouth. I must have had a look of utter confusion on my face while I misunderstood what he said and pictured a grape coming out of his mouth. Assisted delivery, where needed, involves either ventouse or forceps. I think I'd rather have the plunger over the tongs.

The third stage is after the birth. Bas doesn't seem too intent on cutting the umbilical cord - understandably, especially after Didier said it comes off with a 'crunchy' sound and you have to put some effort in. And before that I had imagined it was more like cutting a ribbon at an inaugural event. Cord blood banking - we won't do it in the end as it doesn't look like there are any sure fire uses for it in New Zealand. I really hope we're making the right decision. Active management placenta delivery. An injection helps expel out the placenta, the pro is that it reduces blood loss, and the con is that we'll only have a 10-minute window before my body closes shop thus risking trapping the placenta in.Placenta - we're certainly not keeping it to bury under a tree for Loki to dig out, or putting it in the freezer and risking an accidental defrost in preparation for a dinner.

Tadpole - whom I hope will have a definitive name by then. I'll try to breastfeed. So far there are no indications as to why I won't be able to. Besides the psychological block induced by the knowledge that someone I've never seen in my life is going to suck my nipples. Vitamin K injections are apparently compulsory in the US. If American parents wish to decline this, they'll have to have a court order. In New Zealand, it is still optional even though it helps reduce chances of cerebral palsy. Thomas is affected by cerebral palsy, and we'll have that injection any time. As Geoff said - declining this injection because it's not 'natural' indicates that people forget how disabilities, deaths and natural disasters are also natural. Whether they're wanted is a different matter. Specific paediatric issues. I can't remember what was said, and there's some sort of sanskrit-looking writing placed there by Geoff which I can't decipher. Cot death prevention awareness. Just a reminder not to place Tadpole on his belly, in bed between the two of us (Naliah would object anyway), or smoke around him, which we already knew of. Car seat. Purchased, tested and will be placed in the car beginning of November. Guess I'll have to learn how to use it, that might help.

Postnatal issues. I'll end up in Birthcare, hopefully within 4hrs of birth (24hrs if there's a caesarean involved). I'm going for my own room - don't want to have my rest, or Tadpole's, interrupted by another woman's baby or visitors.Postnatal midwife has been sorted. Beverly Thys, whom I'll need to contact beginning of November. Immunisation. Yes. Registration on the National Immunisation Register will be done by our GP during a routine visitPaediatrician. Again, same story with the MOH withdrawing funding for private paediatric care in labour, so the fee for private paediatricians is $200 - $250. I wonder where that money goes; www.treasury.govt.nz won't work for me. What an irony that it is the labour government that's withdrawing funding for two things related to labour. (rant about the NZ government is now over)

After the discussion, we had the routine checks. Diagnostic:

• Weight: 55kg (I did have my coat & shoes on)
• Tension: 120/70 (This seems a bit higher than normal, but we did happen to discuss labour and birth and pain just before...)
• Fundal height: normal
• Heartbeat: normal

He also prodded around to see how everything was positioned in there, and boy was I glad to hear that Tadpole had adopted the ideal position: head down, feet to the RHS by my ribs, butt to the LHS by my waist (which has now disappeared under the blob of fat I've grown over the months). This doesn't mean that he's engaged and ready to pop out (Jai thought that it was the case and freaked out), just that this is one more chance for me to avoid a caesarean (which would be needed if he was a breech baby, i.e. butt first). There is still a 1-2% chance that he'll turn around so I guess I'll keep on lying on my left side till he completely runs out of room to turn around.